BETWEEN THE WORKSHOP AND THE UKAY-UKAY
by Lara Saguisag


For two weeks, I worked as a documentation assistant for the 38th U.P. National Writers' Workshop. I was part of the workshop staff, along with coordinator Ralph Galan and administrative assistant Bernie Bucao. During the week, Tony Serrano was there to help out too... This year's Workshop Director was UP Creative Writing Center Director Cristina Pantoja Hidalgo, so all four of us were always up on our toes, rushing to check whether the panelists' bedsheets had been changed, hurrying to see whether the fellows were awake, and running around doing various other errands. We struggled to meet the very stringent standards of quality and excellence by Dr. Hidalgo.

Well, at least, we wanted her to think that we were busy. The truth is, we were on the verge of becoming bored out of our skulls -- there were only so much photos and footage I could take, so much receipts that Bernie could collect, and so much worrying that Ralph could do. To fill the time, we burned our cellphones with endless texting and nonstop Snake. We napped twice a day. We puzzled over the best plan to escape the workshop proceeding to go to the Ukay-ukay. There was a point when we would get up for breakfast, pretend to arrange the session hall, wave to Dr. Hidalgo to be certain she saw us up and about, then go back down to our room and sleep.

Not that we had an awful job --- for minimal work, we got to listen in freely to discussions and arguments about writing (which, to Dr. Hidalgo's relief, sometimes segued to a brief discussion of this year's theme, "Ang Bayan at ang Manunulat"), led by literary luminaries such as Bienvenido Lumbera, Amelia Lapena Bonifacio, Gemino Abad, and Lilia Quindoza Santiago. We also got paid well, got free room and board, plus we were in Baguio, away from Manila's sweltering heat. This year's workshop was held at the pleasant Villa Romana up on Ambuklao Road, where wild birds played among the thriving plants, where fog crept and curled into your room ("Ay, it's so mystical here in Baguio,," Ralph commented, "as in, mist!"), where pine scent mixed with the perfume of wildflowers. All that, plus a breathtaking view of the mountains every morning, ought to kill boredom, right?

Well, what can I say? So we're immature and unappreciative. We found pleasure not in our sensuous surroundings, but in passing around workshop gossip. And if you've ever been to a workshop, you know that it's the perfect environment for gossip to flourish and run wild.

"Huy, guess who slept in whose bed last night!"
"Mm, ang kamay ni ano umaano kay ano..."
"Chika sila hanggang 3 am kanina, ha."
"Ows? E ikaw? Ba't gising ka pa ng 3am?"

But hey, no names here. We don't want to taint our fellows' writing careers this early. In fact, we donn't want to taint them, period. The 2001 Baguio batch of Fellows was an unusually cohesive, jovial, and amiable bunch. Instead of spending their last night on Baguio dancing the night away at Spirits, they all decided to fly back to Villa Romana and have a bonding session. Because our gossip radars were always attuned, we always heard Good Samaritan stories about the fellows: poet Patty Pangasinan, a licensed physical therapist, doing a Shiatsu free of charge; fictionist Migs Villanueva treating her hungry roomamates to lunch downtown; Iluko fellow Larry de Francia inviting everyone to his home in Baguio.

Bernie and I waited in vain for the type-A personalities to rear their ugly heads. Whiny, bossy, hypersensitive types had to emerge. Among the fellows, poet Jason "Medea" Jacobo was the closest we got to a dive --- he was loud, he always got attention, and he had an amazing singing voice. But he was hardly the snob -- he was in fact the source of much of our workshop tsismis (also, it turned out that the whiniest person in the workshop was a panelist.)

The fellows were also remarkable talented, as showcased during the Poetry Reading and Fellows' Night, which were hosted by Jason and perky Mark Anthony Cayanan. We were thrilled by the musical talents of Cel Flores, Kathy Calingasan, and BJ Camaya, and entertained by the half-dance, half-stand-up comedy number led by Gerry Los Banos, Egay Samar, and Allan Lopez.

The panelists were not to be outdone, of course --- Charlson Ong sang "My Funny Valentine" in the dark, and Vim Nadera turned balladeer as he sang "Never Say Goodbye." On- and off- session, Domeng Landicho, as usual, provided comic relief.

The breadth of the talent amazed us, and of course, it was most apparent in the fellows' written works, as in the poems of Naya Valleon, whom Neil called an "accomplished poet", and "Kasama" a story by Jose Ma. Bayani, which was praised for its honesty and power. Eighteen year old Cyril Maano impressed many with her humorous stories that burst with unique insight.

"Ang galing naman", we would sigh. "Buti pa sila."

We, of course, did not envy the fellows of the stomach-churning experience of having your work criticized by masters like Jun Cruz Reyes and Rene Villanueva. Most of the fellows were admittedly terrified by the second-week panel, which included Anton Juan, Butch Dalisay, Ariel Agcaoili, and Roland Tolentino. "Oh no!", one of them had groaned. "Carla Pacis is the only cheerful face in the panel!"

My favorite distressed reaction came from fellow Gil Palma, who unwittingly was always called on to comment on a work. Gil (Eddie Vedder to the younger fellows), however, impressed some co-fellows and panelists with the high stakes he took in his screenplay.

Additional perks were provided by the coming and going of books and writers - UP Press, with the help of Dean Precy Macasantos, held a booksale during the workshop (we couldn't splurge much, though - we spent all our money the previous week at the Diplomat bookstore). Poets Butch Macasantos and Mario Miclat, and former fellows Marx Lopez, Jing Pananiban, and Alwynn Javier dropped by for a visit. Angel Battung of the Palanca Foundation was a guest during the second week, and encouraged everyone to join the upcoming literary contest.

All this, and we were still bored? Of course not! Durin the humdrum moments, we put our escape plans into action, and ended up at the Ukay-ukay.
 
 
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